Clockwork
by Bishie Huntress
Summary: In trying to bring his brother's body back, Ed sacrificed everything. But is he truly gone? Post 2003 anime, or rather, an alternate ending.
1. Prologue: End and Beginning

The time was now. Ed shouldn't hesitate, couldn't afford to hesitate, and yet…. He had no idea what would become of him. At best, he would likely be dead. At worst… well. There was so much worse the Gate could do than a simple death. He looked at the elaborate swirls painted on the ground before him. In their own way, the lines were beautiful and breathtaking, but Ed knew what they were capable of, and the power taunted him, mocking his cowardice.

The sound of cracking stone made Ed look up to see Envy struggling against the giant hands holding him captive. They arched up from either side of the gigantic transmutation circle laid out before him, holding Envy stretched awkwardly above it. The only reason they'd managed to hold the homunculus this long was because he was in a position that afforded him very little leverage. But he was strong, and the hands were breaking, and Ed needed to act _now._

Ed clapped his hands together, the sound ringing through the subterranean ballroom with a sense of finality, and Envy screeched, thrashing violently. Paying Envy no heed, he placed his hands on the floor, adding to and overwriting the current transmutation circle that was painted there. Caught in the middle like a spider in a web, Alphonse cried out.

"Brother! What are you doing?" He struggled wildly against his bonds, his armor clanking and squealing against the marble floor. "Stop! Please!" he sobbed.

Ed gave his brother one last, longing glance, then gritted his teeth and ignored Al, focusing intently on the power using him as a conduit. Because that's what this was. The power surging through and around him was wild, untamed. It was a primal force of nature in all its unleashed glory, and all Ed could do was hang on for the ride. One small mistake and they would all be torn apart.

Envy screamed in rage again and broke free of the stone hands, only to fall right into the transmutation circle. It flared up to meet him, and this time, he screamed in pain and fear. He tried to move, to flee the circle, but the power held him fast.

The light crackled and swirled around them, three brothers caught up in the spinning wheel of fate, and shot up through the roof to the city above. Then everything went still, and lying alone in the middle of the circle of power was a young man, naked as the day he was born and holding tightly to a silver pocket watch.


	2. Before the Gate

White.

Everything was white.

Ed immediately knew where he was, and he felt his body draw itself up protectively, ready to fight. Turning slowly, he raised his eyes to the black doors that floated above the featureless surface of this world.

The Gate.

It was as hideous as he remembered it, and Ed repressed a shudder. He looked for Truth, and a giggle behind him had him turning back around.

"Hello, Edward Elric!" said a sing-song voice. Truth stood there, as pale and featureless as the surrounding scenery, its form only visible by the vague suggestion of shadows around it.

"Truth."

"You shouldn't have come back," Truth chided. "Just look at this mess!"

It gestured, and Ed turned his head to look. Laid out on the floor, like the sacrifice Dante had intended him to be, was Al. He wasn't moving, though the designs painted on his body still glowed with those of the array that sketched itself across the ground. Envy lay to one side of Alphonse, the lines of the array twisted and caught around him like strangling vines.

"This is such a pain," Truth continued. "What am I going to do with you?"

Ed stepped forward until he was at the edge of the array, eyes on his brother. "I don't care," he said softly. "Just give Alphonse his body back."

Truth clucked. "Really. And what do you think your brother would have to say to that?" The pale figure waved a hand, and Envy snarled, pulling violently at the lines of power that held him. Startled, Ed stepped back.

"Oops, wrong brother. Silly me!" Truth gestured again, and Envy fell still. Then Al turned his head, glowing eyes staring into Ed's soul.

"Ed._ Brother_. Don't do this," he pleaded. His voice sounded so broken, and Ed's heart clenched. He turned away.

"You don't need to torture me with hallucinations," he said harshly.

"No hallucinations!" Truth said.

Ed bit his lip doubtfully and looked over his shoulder at Al's figure. Al was still watching him. He swallowed.

"It doesn't matter," he said shortly. "The transmutation has been activated, the sacrifice given. Equivalent Exchange demands the fulfillment of the contract."

"No!" Al shouted, struggling vainly to get up, and Truth waved again, stilling the incandescent suit of armor.

"Ooh, big words!" Truth clapped its hands together once, and a grin with far too many teeth stretched its way across the blank face. Ed shuddered.

"Well, you are right, of course," Truth went on. "The problem lies in the sacrifice."

"What?" Ed snarled. "I'm right here! What's the problem?"

Truth sighed dramatically. "The problem is _that_," it said flatly, a trace of disgust evident in its tone. It pointed at Envy.

Ed frowned. The homunculus had been an unforeseen addition to the transmutation, but the array had already been activated.

Truth grabbed its head with both hands. "Idiot! Don't you get it?" the strange being screeched.

"No, I don't," Ed said, annoyed.

Truth dropped its hands and became strangely still. When it spoke again, its voice had changed. It sounded older, somehow. "The homunculus is an abomination, an aberration in the fabric of reality," it said. "It has been brought before us, and we must accept this as a sacrifice above all else. However, a homunculus is no longer human, and the exchange cannot be considered equal without a human. But to accept both you and the homunculus as payment would exceed the equivalency."

Abruptly, Truth's voice changed once again. "Do you see?" it yelled, clawing at its face. "Do you understand what you have done?"

Ed turned and looked at Alphonse and Envy again, mind racing. The Gate couldn't take both Ed and Envy, but it had to take Envy first, and the homunculus was not enough of a sacrifice. What if….

"I have an idea," he said, turning back to Truth. Immediately, the strange creature calmed, cocking its head and watching Ed with interest.

_Some time later…_

"Do we have an agreement, then?" Ed asked.

Truth nodded and grinned. "Shake, then, but know that this contract is binding. There is no way out of it. And if you ever come back before us again, we shall not be so… _understanding_. We express gratification that you have returned the homunculus to us. This will go a long way toward restoring the balance of the world that was once rent asunder." It stuck out a hand.

Ed hesitated, looking back at his brother and Envy, still lying on the floor. "What will happen to him?" he asked, waving at the homunculus. It wasn't that he cared, exactly, but Envy had been human, once.

"It will be returned to its cycle, to be reborn once again, with no memory of its previous existence. Now, shake," it demanded.

With a last look at Al, and a silent goodbye, Ed turned and grasped Truth's hand. Blinding light surrounded him and he cried out as agony suffused his being. He felt his world shifting and changing, and then there was nothing.


	3. The Pain of Awakening

No birds sang over Alphonse Elric when he finally opened his eyes the next morning. It wasn't until he stood up and everything seemed off around him that he even realized he wasn't a giant suit of armor, anymore. Al looked at his hands in wonder, blushing furiously when he realized he was naked. He marveled at the feel of blood heating his cheeks. For a few breathtaking moments, everything was perfect.

And then sensation caught up with him, tearing through his body like lightning.

Al screamed, falling to his knees. He landed on his side, writhing in excruciating pain as nerves that he had spent years without suddenly overwhelmed his brain. Tears streamed down his face as he rolled onto his back, trying to alleviate the agony that ran like fire under his skin.

"Help!" he sobbed. "Brother, someone… please!" But there was no one, and Al was left to suffer until, finally, his body took mercy on him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Hours later, Al woke with a start, sure he'd heard something. He sat up carefully, relieved to note that his body seemed to have adjusted a bit while he was out, and looked around. There was no one in sight, but it might be a good idea to get out of here in case Dante or any of her homunculi were still around.

As Al struggled to his feet once more, something clattered across the ruined floor. He looked down, catching a glint of silver in the flickering light, and bent over. His fingers caught up a familiar silver chain, and he looked at Ed's pocket watch in surprise.

"Didn't I lose that in Liore…?" Al murmured. The sudden sound of a rock skittering across the ground had him spinning around. Still new to his old body, Al lost his balance and fell, crying out at the unexpected sensation on nerves still this side of tender.

There was a sudden flurry of activity – harsh whispers, quick, careful footsteps, the creak of a leather holster – and Al scrambled to his feet, looking frantically for a place to hide. Unfortunately, there was nothing near enough for him to reach in time, and a gun appeared around the edge of the doorway leading out of the ballroom, followed by a careful eye.

Al almost fell over in relief when Lieutenant Hawkeye appeared in the doorway. Then he remembered his state of undress and blushed ten shades of red and tried to cover himself in mortification. Hawkeye appeared unperturbed, though she did turn away to preserve his decency.

"Your greatcoat, sir," she said to someone else, and gestured toward Al, keeping her eyes averted.

There was a rustling sound, and Colonel Mustang strode into view, holding out his black coat. Alphonse took it with relief, donning it quickly and pulling it shut around him.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly, pocketing the watch absentmindedly.

"You're welcome." There was a pause, and then Mustang added tentatively, "Alphonse?"

Al nodded, adjusting the coat. The cloth chafed, but he tried to ignore it.

"How did you… What happened here?" Mustang asked, looking around.

"I'm not really sure," Al said slowly, his voice raspy. It sounded flat to his ears, no longer echoing, and the vibrations it caused almost tickled. He swallowed, feeling his esophagus as it contracted, and tried again. "I don't remember everything. Dante wanted to take Rose's body, and then Ed came back and— Ed!" Feeling like the worst brother in existence, Al spun around.

"Ed! Brother!" he called out, but even as he did, he knew his brother was nowhere around, and panic started to set in. Without Ed, what would he do? Where would he go? Whose bare stomach would he cover up at night? Who could he turn to when he—

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, drawing Al back into himself before the dizziness could overwhelm him. "Alphonse," Mustang said, "we'll figure this out. But for now, I think we need to get you to a hospital." He beckoned and his team came into the room, staring at Alphonse with wonder even as they kept an eye out on the various balconies.

"It's alright," Al said softly. "I'm pretty sure Brother's not here, anyway."

"We'll double-check, anyway. Hawkeye…"

"On it, sir." Hawkeye proceeded to hand out orders, but before the men could scatter, Al spoke up again.

"Some of the homunculi are gone," he started, forcing the words past the tightness in his throat. "Lust, Sloth—" His breath hitched, but Al continued gamely on. "I don't know what happened to Wrath or Gluttony, and I think Dante got away. Ed was fighting Envy before…" Al trailed off, frowning.

"Why can't I remember what happened?" he said to himself.

"Right," Colonel Mustang said. "Keep an eye out for the homunculi, but do not engage. Lieutenant Havoc and I will see about getting Alphonse to a hospital."

Breda and Falman split off from Hawkeye and Fuery, and Mustang's hand on Al's shoulder urged him forward. The boy only managed two steps, however, before his body betrayed him and he nearly fell. Only the colonel's quick reflexes kept Al from meeting the floor for a third time. Al tried again, and again, his legs gave out. Mustang shot Havoc a look over his head, and the lieutenant hefted the boy easily into his arms.

"Sorry about this," he said around the ever-present cigarette as they walked from the ballroom.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Al said, doing a fantastic impression of a tomato as he held tight to Havoc's neck.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Alphonse," Mustang said over his shoulder as he led the way through the streets of the dead city. "I'm sure I speak for the rest of my team when I say we are delighted that you were able to get your body back." Havoc nodded his agreement, grinning around the cigarette.

"I just wish I knew what happened to Brother," Al said softly. The men had no response to that, and the rest of their journey to the surface was made in silence.

When they made it to the street, Al gasped in shock. "What happened here?" he asked, staring around with wide, golden eyes. Everywhere he looked, buildings leaned haphazardly like drunken men. Many had toppled to the ground, and cracks ran through the pavement every which way.

"Earthquake," Havoc said, nearly losing his cigarette. He caught it at the last second with his lips and sucked it back into his mouth.

Mustang reached over and snatched the cigarette out of Havoc's mouth, tossing it into the street before the other man could protest. When Havoc frowned and opened his mouth, Mustang simply raised an eyebrow, and that was the end of that. Al hid a small laugh.

"We're not really sure what happened, actually," the colonel said quietly, as they made their way to the car on the side of the road. "It certainly felt like an earthquake, but there were no aftershocks. However, this was the epicenter of the quake."

Al frowned in thought as Havoc placed him gently in the back seat, covering him with a blanket that he pulled from underneath. Havoc slid behind the wheel and Colonel Mustang sat in the front passenger's seat. "Perhaps it was the energy from the transmutation?" Al suggested as the lieutenant started the engine.

"I'd considered that," Colonel Mustang said slowly, "but the energy required to cause such a reaction would be phenomenal."

"It was most likely the Philosopher's Stone," Al said quietly. Mustang said nothing in response, but Al noticed the tightening at the corner of his eye.

The trip to the hospital was quiet after that, as Lieutenant Havoc maneuvered through the destruction. Al was left to his own thoughts, and his mind was drawn back into the puzzle of trying to remember the events of the night before. Every now and then, amazement would fill him again at the realization that he actually had his body back, tempered by the thought that Ed was nowhere to be found, and the knowledge of what that could mean.

Al was jerked out of his thoughts by the sudden swerving of the car. Next to them – almost _on top of_ them – half a building toppled down onto the roadway. "I had no idea the energy from a transmutation could do this," he said solemnly, a vague sense of guilt gnawing at his gut.

"It won't do any good to blame yourself for this, Alphonse," Mustang said. "Whatever happened, I'm sure you and your brother never intended to hurt anyone."

Al knew that what Colonel Mustang said was true, but he also knew his brother, and Edward had a habit of getting carried away with things, especially if his younger brother was in danger. Al was the same way.

The remainder of their slow navigation to the hospital passed quickly, and though the wait there was long, the doctors at last proclaimed Al to be healthy, if in need of some food, rest, and plenty of exercise. Colonel Mustang offered to let Alphonse stay the night with him, but Al declined politely. He and Ed still had a room at a hotel, and he didn't want to miss his brother, in case…. Just in case.

The ever-resourceful Hawkeye reported in with a change of clothes in Al's size. The two officers stepped out of the hospital room to give the boy some time to change, but the door didn't quite shut behind them, and Al could hear their low voices as he slipped into clothes, trying not to let the fabric bother him too much.

"Did you find anything?" Mustang asked quietly.

"No, sir. Any homunculi left are long gone."

"And Edward?"

"No sign of him, sir." There was a small pause. "I'm sorry, sir."

Colonel Mustang was silent for a moment as Al gathered up his greatcoat, folding it over his arm. A soft clank reminded him of the watch in the pocket, and he pulled it out, studying the worn surface. It still gleamed. Al recalled how his brother used to polish and wind the watch with great care, despite hating the representation of the hold the military had on him.

"What will we tell him?" the colonel asked.

Al pushed the door open, careful on his feet. "The truth will work," he said.

"Alphonse, you shouldn't be walking around, yet," Mustang said.

"Of course I should," the teen said. "You heard the doctor: plenty of exercise."

"There will be time for that tomorrow," the colonel said. "Right now – "

"Brother always says you shouldn't put off until tomorrow what you can do today. Well, that's not quite right. There's something about two good legs, and lots of swearing, but that's the gist of it."

Hawkeye tried not to smile, but Mustang smirked. "That sounds like Fullmetal," he said. Then his face became somber. "Alphonse…" he started.

Al saved the colonel some trouble. "I heard," he said. "The door didn't shut all the way." The two officers looked chagrined, but Al continued. "I don't think Brother is dead. He promised he wouldn't leave me behind, so just as soon as I'm back on my feet, I'm going to go find him."

"The military is going to want answers," Colonel Mustang said quietly as Lieutenant Hawkeye guarded their conversation.

"I understand. Just… just give me some time," Al said. "That's all I ask."

Mustang nodded. "That, I can do. Don't worry, Alphonse. We'll think of something." He straightened a bit, though Al hadn't even noticed him slouching. "Right now, though, I think you should get some sleep."

Al felt himself sway a bit, and put a hand out to the doorframe. "I think you're right," he said. "I should probably sit down." For the third time that night, Mustang detained Al's meeting with the ground. Hawkeye grabbed the wheelchair Al hadn't even noticed sitting outside his door and maneuvered it so the colonel could help him sit.

"Havoc will drive you to your hotel," Mustang said. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with me?"

"I'll be fine, Colonel," Al said firmly. "Oh!" He held out the coat that was still folded over his arm. Mustang took it with a quiet "_thanks"_. "There's… There's also this," Al said hesitantly, holding out his hand. His fingers curled around the well-used pocket watch. "It was the only thing with me when I woke up."

Mustang reached out and carefully took it from his grasp, and Al forced his fingers to release it. He looked at it silently for a minute, then pocketed it without a word, but Al saw a suspicious gleam in his eye. And if he didn't call the colonel on it, it was only because his own throat was too tight.

"Hawkeye, please see Alphonse to the car. I have – I have something to see to."

Hawkeye didn't question what else the colonel could possibly need to do in the hospital tonight, just acknowledged the request with a salute and wheeled Al down the hall.

"Good night, Alphonse," Mustang said as they passed him.

"Good night, sir," Al responded quietly. He sagged into his chair and sighed heavily as Lieutenant Hawkeye continued toward the exit. Recovery would be a long process, but he was determined to see it done as quickly as possible so he could be off and searching for his brother. Ed would do the same for him – _had done_ – and Al would chase after him forever, if that's what it took.


	4. In the Darkness

The first thing Ed noticed was the darkness. Absolute, it surrounded him in its inky depths. Or perhaps he was just blind. It was hard to tell because he couldn't feel his body. He did feel warm, though, and safe. Cocooned in his comfortable darkness, Ed floated in quiet apathy.

Ed wasn't sure how long he stayed like this, wandering in and out of his consciousness, but at one point, it changed. He had come to the rather nebulous conclusion that he didn't have a body, but at this particular point in time, he felt decidedly wet. Ed wasn't sure he liked it, but then again, he wasn't sure he disliked it, and soon enough, the sensation was gone again.

The next time things changed, Ed felt rather weightless. Then, suddenly, his whole world was shaken and jarred. Earthquake? Perhaps. But he felt no pain, and then he was warm again, and that wet feeling seemed to cover him. …Rain? Ed struggled with the thought. Was that what it was? He didn't know, and trying to think about it took too much effort, so Ed sank back into his oblivion.

Ed came back to quasi-awareness when he smelled something hot. The smell of smoke was lacking. This was more the smell of heat, of dry-baked sand, or hot iron, or fire without the smoke. Fire… Ed's thoughts slowed. Fire meant… meant… something important. Ed was sure of it. What it could be, however, danced capriciously out of reach, and Ed felt something new: anger. Anger felt like a fire all his own, from deep within his soul, and Ed felt more alive than he had in the past uncounted days.

The anger did something to Ed, stirred him up a bit. He spent more of his time awake, _aware_, and he began to notice things.

There was a _click-snap_, _click-snap_, the first sound Ed heard that wasn't his own thoughts. After a time, he was able to make out the rumbling sound of muffled voices – or rather, one voice. Sometimes it sounded close, and sometimes, it was further away. Every now and then, Ed was able to make out another voice. _Female_, he thought.

Once, he heard another voice, male, younger, and passionate. It tugged at Ed's soul so violently that he was sure he'd be pulled right out of this all-consuming blackness. Just as he felt something start to give, he was slammed up against an invisible barrier. He fought and struggled, but he couldn't find hands to clap or feet to kick, and the barrier remained immovable. The voice stopped, and Ed fell back into the void, but he was himself again, and he knew that voice: _Al_.


	5. The Pain of Remembering

Roy yawned as he shut the front door of his apartment behind him. He unlaced his boots and left them in an untidy heap and threw his coat on a hook nailed to the wall. Then he wandered into the living room and fell onto his couch with another jaw-cracking yawn.

"Hawkeye is going to be the death of me," Roy mused aloud. He pulled out his pocket watch. "Eleven?" he said incredulously. "That can't be right." He shook the watch, but the numbers remained unchanged. "I could have sworn it was only eight…" He made a mental note to verify the accuracy of his office clock.

Putting the pocket watch away, Roy leaned back against the dilapidated cushions and considered the likelihood of getting a new, more comfortable piece of furniture. It didn't seem likely, but he wasn't here much, anyway.

Roy also considered the likelihood of eating dinner and decided that, too, probably wouldn't happen. "I should have made Hawkeye grab something to eat," he grumbled. Just who was the senior officer, anyway? Recalling the business end of a pistol pointed at him, Roy decided the gun was definitely the senior officer and chose to leave it at that.

Roy sighed heavily, which turned into yet another yawn, and dragged himself off the couch to head to bed. He was turning to leave the room when a glint of light caught on a picture frame on top of the mantle, and Roy paused to look. While he didn't have a lot of furnishings and useless clutter, he did like to keep a few precious photographs around.

There were a couple of Maes up there, and one of the team, but the one that caught his eye was a picture of Fullmetal and Alphonse. Edward was grinning widely and knocking the knuckles of his left hand back against Al's chest plate. His eyes were closed in the bright sunlight, and he gleamed gold, while Al shone silver.

Roy walked over and picked up the picture, running careful fingers over the frame. Maes had taken this picture – he was always great at getting the best candid shots – and Gracia had given it to Roy after… well, after.

"You were like a star, Fullmetal, shining and so full of life. When you… After you…" Roy stopped for a moment. "Your absence is like a black hole. We're all spiraling helplessly about it, just waiting until we get sucked in and realize there's nothing left." He set the picture down and turned away.

"Listen to me, getting all sentimental. And without having anything to drink." Roy turned off the living room light and made his way to his room in the dark. He paused at the end of the short hallway, looking back to see the picture reflecting moonlight mockingly at him.

"Al still sees the light, Fullmetal. He's still searching for you. For his sake, I hope you're still out there."

* * *

The next morning found Roy yawning as he walked into his office. Daybreak burned pale gold over the eastern horizon as he gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from Lieutenant Hawkeye and opened the door to his inner office. The light shone through his tall windows, making the Colonel squint.

"Remind me again why I don't have curtains," he muttered.

"General Praxley, sir," Hawkeye said helpfully.

"Ah, yes. Assassinations." Damn. Well, at least it was that much less dust to worry about. Roy set his coffee mug down on his desk and shrugged out of his coat, hooking it carefully on a coat stand. He could afford to be sloppy at home, but in the office, appearances were everything.

Hawkeye silently moved his mug to the coaster it was set next to and handed him a stack of papers. "These need to be approved before the meeting at seven-thirty, sir," she said, ignoring his incredulous look. There had to be about fifty folders in his arms, and a glance at the clock showed six thirty, giving Roy all of one hour.

"Why couldn't I have done this last night, instead of the others?" he asked.

"Those were for the six o'clock meeting, sir," Riza reminded respectfully.

"Of course." Roy sighed. "Why are we always behind on the paperwork, Lieutenant?"

"I believe there are some people who are having trouble focusing on their work," Hawkeye said pointedly, turning toward the door.

"Havoc? Breda?" Roy suggested hopefully. The glance Riza shot over her shoulder proved the futility of his hope.

"Seven-thirty, sir," she repeated and shut the door firmly behind herself.

* * *

"Oh, look at this one! It's so _cute_!" Roy walked in the door following the seven-thirty meeting right as Fuery practically squealed.

"A dog's a dog," Breda said sensibly. This was followed with, "They're all awful."

"Scaredy cat," Havoc muttered sullenly. Roy looked at the usually cheerful man and nearly did a double take.

"What," he said, "happened to your _hair_?" It was gone, every single last strand. Havoc ran a hand over it self-consciously and tried to look like he wasn't flushing with mortification while Breda laughed.

"Lost a bet," the large man supplied helpfully.

"Ah."

Fuery drew his attention again with a giggle. "These two are adorable!" he said to Hawkeye, flipping through some photographs. "I really wish I could take them all. As it is, I can't even have one." He sighed longingly and handed the pictures back to the lieutenant.

"What's going on?" Roy asked curiously, stepping closer.

Riza opened her mouth to answer, but Kain beat her to it. "Black Hayate had puppies!"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "I thought Black Hayate was a boy?" he said to Riza.

Again, Kain beat her to the punch. "Oh, he is," the sergeant assured, "but his mate's puppies were born. Just look!" he cooed, shoving the pictures under Roy's nose. "Aren't they simply _adorable_?"

Roy froze, the words echoing in his head. For a moment, he was reminded so strongly of Maes that he forgot how to breathe.

"Sir? Sir, are you alright?" Roy became aware of his lieutenant speaking to him. He pulled himself together.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant. The puppies are lovely, of course. Give my regards to Black Hayate."

Lieutenant Hawkeye looked at him strangely but chose to say nothing.

"Falman," Roy called across Havoc and Breda's bickering. The warrant officer snapped to attention. "Report on the investigation?"

Roy didn't need to mention which investigation. Currently, the office only had one. They were looking into a series of murders that shared too many similarities to be coincidence, though whether they were dealing with a serial killer was still up for debate.

"Sir!" Falman saluted sharply. "The lead we had in Dublith turned out to be a domestic dispute. The lead in East City was an attention seeker."

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache he'd picked up in the meeting begin to worsen. A migraine this early in the morning was never a good sign. "What else?" he questioned. "Do we have any new leads?"

"There are rumors of disappearances and strange lights, possibly alchemical, on the outskirts of a small town in the north." Falman consulted his notes. "A place called Kovniik."

"Why do the northern towns always have such weird names?" Havoc grumbled. Roy shot him a scathing look, and the second lieutenant shut up.

"Send someone to check it out," Roy said. "I'll be in my office." Falman and Hawkeye offered impeccable salutes, while Havoc and Breda just nodded, taking advantage of Roy's normally casual attitude in the office. Fuery wavered between the two, but by the time he tried to play it cool, Roy was already shutting the door behind him.

He had barely reached his desk when there was a knock at the door behind him and it opened. Roy turned to see Hawkeye entering with a stack of papers balanced carefully in her arms. She set it on his desk.

"Today's work?" he assumed.

"This morning's," she corrected. Roy eyed the wall speculatively, wondering how much damage his head would be likely to do. "Also, your new desk is in."

Roy looked at his lieutenant sharply. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your new desk finally arrived," Hawkeye said. "Shall I have the warehouse deliver it?"

"What new desk? I don't recall authorizing a new desk."

"That's what you get for signing your paperwork without reading it first. Sir." Hawkeye gave him a knowing look. "When would you like it? I could have it taken care of over your lunch break."

"No!" Roy said, a bit more abruptly than he'd intended. "No," he repeated. "I don't need a new desk."

One of Hawkeye's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure? Your old desk is looking pretty beat up."

Roy looked down at his desk, seeing anew the numerous nicks and scuffs that marred the glossy surface of his desk. His fingers trailed over the edges of a long, jagged scar, and he smiled to himself at the memory it brought forth.

* * *

"_So there we were, minding our own business, when this idiot— Hey! Are you even listening? Aargh!" Fullmetal pulled his hair, long blond strands straggling from his braid. "Why do I even report to you? You already know all this!"_

"_It amuses me to see how long you'll ramble," Roy said, chin in hand. He pulled out his pocket watch with his other hand and flipped it open. "Hm. Shorter than last time."_

"_You bastard! Who're you calling too small to be heard?!"_

"_Brother, that's not what the colonel said at all," Alphonse said calmly from the back of the room. He'd been so still that Roy nearly forgot he was there. "Just finish your report so we can—"_

"_Myaaooow."_

"_Al. What was that?" Ed asked suspiciously._

"_What was what, Brother?" Al asked, fidgeting with a rattle._

"_Don't play dumb, Al. I clearly heard—"_

"_Myyyaaaaaoooowww!"_

"_That."_

"_Oh, haha! That?" Al shifted again. "That was nothing! Just… It was just the wind!"_

"_The wind." Roy watched in amusement as Edward stalked over to his younger brother. "It sure is hot out today. I'd _kill_ for some wind." Al made a remarkably realistic gulping sound. "Show me this… _wind_."_

"_Brother, I…" Alphonse trailed off, but before he could think of something to say, there came a horrendous screeching from inside his breastplate, and a fuzzy blur shot from his armor, past Edward, and straight under Roy's desk, huddling against his leg._

_Instead of turning toward the desk to get the cat like Roy thought he would, Edward turned back to Al and stepped forward menacingly. Alphonse stepped back. Roy watched with interest as they repeated this process until Al was backed up to the wall, at which point he began sliding sideways until he'd effectively cornered himself. Ed lunged forward and grabbed hold of the breastplate, pulling it open. He pushed aside the cloth that hung within and shoved his head inside._

"_How many more?" he said, voice echoing._

"_Umm…"_

_Ed pulled his head back out and looked up sternly. "How many."_

"_Four?" Al tried_

_Ed raised an eyebrow, and Roy hid a smirk at how much the boy looked like him in that moment._

"_Or five?"_

_The other eyebrow went up._

"_Okay!" Al exclaimed. "There are seven more! Are you happy? I just wanted to help them. They didn't have a home, Brother!"_

_Ed's eyebrows dropped, his expression dropped, and his head dropped. Roy couldn't see anything behind the fall of hair and he wondered what Edward was thinking._

"_I know," he said at last, so softly Roy almost missed it. Then he looked up fiercely at his younger brother, eyes bright. "I know. I promise that we'll find a home, Al." Roy got the distinct impression that they weren't just talking about the cats anymore._

_Al laid a gentle gauntlet on Edward's shoulder. "I promise, too," he said quietly. "You don't have to do it alone."_

_Roy was suddenly sure that the brothers had forgotten all about his presence, and that he was intruding on a private moment. He cleared his throat softly and shifted his feet, accidentally kicking the cat that was hiding under his desk._

_The boys whirled around at the animal screech that was followed by a human one as the cat climbed the colonel like a tree. Roy batted wildly at the beast, but it only dug its claws into his arm deeper. He managed to grab it by the scruff of the neck and pull it off his arm, but the animal thrashed and twisted in his grip, latching onto the arm that held him and sinking teeth into the flesh below his thumb._

"_Fullmetal," he growled through clenched teeth, holding his arm out over the desk, "your cat."_

"_It's not my cat, bastard," Ed said, and Roy could see him struggling not to laugh._

"_Your younger brother brought this in here. Am I mistaken in thinking that you are big enough to take responsibility?"_

"_Bastard!" Ed hissed._

"_It's okay, Brother, I can—"_

"_I've got this, Al," Ed said shortly and stepped forward. He reached out to take the cat, but the creature let go of Roy's hand long enough to hiss at him. "Come on, beastie," he said, reaching out with his left arm._

"_Fullmetal…"_

_Edward shot a glare at him. "You want me to take the cat? Shut up."_

_Roy raised an eyebrow but complied. Slowly, Ed took off his glove and reached his hand out. The cat eyed it warily, even going so far as to sniff at it delicately, but Roy felt its rejection in the tightening of its clawed grip through his shirtsleeve._

_Ed looked at the cat with distaste. "Alright, you wanna play hard to get? Fine." He slipped his glove on and reached out with his right arm, replacing Roy's grip on its scruff. "Let's go." And he proceeded to pull._

"_Fullmetal—Ow! Stop, Fullmetal! OW!" With a final, vicious tug, Roy's arm was free, though his sleeve was now shredded and bloodstained._

"_Oh, be quiet, you big baby," Ed said, and then he had to tighten his arms around the cat as it suddenly lunged toward Roy again. It writhed in his grip and managed to snag a claw in the desk, but Ed pulled it away, scattering papers and leaving a long, ragged scratch across half his desk._

"_This is a new desk, Fullmetal," Roy said, unimpressed by the whole affair._

"_Stop crying. I can fix it. Al, take the cat!" Ed said as the cat continued to struggle madly._

_Alphonse stepped forward and gently took the cat, soothing it with soft words and careful pats. Then he stowed it back inside his armor. He looked back up to find Ed and Roy watching him. "What?" he asked defensively._

"_We can't have pets and you know it, Al," Ed said._

"_Well, but—"_

"_No."_

"_But—! Just…" Even Roy could hear the tears in the boy's voice._

"_No, Al," Ed said gently. "One day, you can have as many cats as you like. You can have a home for cats, and I'll tease you about being an old cat lady." He placed a hand on his brother's arm and turned him toward the door. "Then all the kids in the neighborhood will tease you, too, but I'll beat them all up for you. You'll see." Edward led Al through the door of Roy's office, and Roy could hear their voices as they walked away._

"_You promise, Brother?"_

"_Of course, Al. And I don't break my promises."_

"_You break your promises all the time, Brother," Al said doubtfully._

"_Alphonse!" Ed said with a measure of hurt. "How could you? Your own brother!"_

"_Then I'll be waiting, Brother."_

"_Alright, then. Come on! I'll help you find homes for these cats. Did you say seven?"_

"_Eight, counting the one that climbed up the colonel."_

"_Ha! Did you see the look on his face?"_

_Their voices faded out after that, but Roy sat back in his chair feeling that everything had been made right. His eyes fell on his desk. Well, almost everything._

* * *

"I'm sure, Hawkeye," he said. "Doesn't your desk have a broken leg?"

The desk in question was indeed being held up by a few old record books that Falman looked twitchily at every day. "Yes, sir, but I've ordered a replacement part."

"Nonsense, Lieutenant. You work hard. I'm sure you deserve that desk more than I do."

Hawkeye eyed the papers and folders scattered over the Roy's desk. "Well… It would give me more room to organize my work."

"There you go. The desk is yours. Now! What's this work you brought? Surely this isn't a morning's work! It must be about three days' worth, at least."

"Despite curtains and assassins, General Praxley gets twice that amount done in three hours, sir. From his hospital bed."

"Ah! Admirable man. Someone like that can surely be a model for all of us to strive toward. Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

"Sir!" Hawkeye saluted and turned, shutting the door carefully as she left.

Roy sighed and moved around the desk to sit down, dragging his hand over the many scars it bore. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small book and a pen. Opening the little book to a blank page, he made a few notes, pausing to let his eyes linger once again on the rough line made many years ago by a cat's claw. Then he shut the book and stored it away again. He leaned back in his chair.

"Al still doesn't have his house full of cats, Fullmetal. He's waiting for you to keep your promise." The weight of a State-issued pocket watch with a sorrowful inscription hung heavy in his pocket. He spun around to look out the window, the bright, morning sunlight streaming around him. "Where are you, Fullmetal?" he whispered.


End file.
